


The Frog Prince (Or How Jim Kirk Managed To Fall In Love While Green and Covered in Mucus)

by BrokenBones (Hikarinimichitasora)



Series: Crossover/Fusion Challenge [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Princess and the Frog AU, Revisionist Fairy Tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikarinimichitasora/pseuds/BrokenBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, can you hold off on dredging the pond for a few days? You see, I’ve got this short-term amphibian problem and was hoping to use it as a sweet crib to bring my lady-frogs back to,” Jim says. McCoy is still staring at him like he’s something bizarre and distasteful. Then Jim remembers he’s a talking fucking frog and guesses that he should be more worried if McCoy doesn’t react that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Frog Prince (Or How Jim Kirk Managed To Fall In Love While Green and Covered in Mucus)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to slashsailing for looking over this and to all the people in the McKirk Feels chat for listening to me and offering encouragement!

He’s a frog.

A _motherfucking_ amphibian.

And the Federation doesn’t even have a monarchy.

It’s like a cruel, cruel joke.

He looks down at his slimy, green, mottled skin and shudders. The woman before him looks down at him with a small smile and perhaps the tiniest glint of bitterness. Her ice eyes and blond hair surrounding her like a halo even though Jim knows now that she must be a witch or something.

“I’m sure you know the rules of this, Jim Kirk,” she says and Jim sticks his tongue out at her. It goes really far. He kind of likes it and does it again. She rolls her eyes.

“You have until midnight on the third day to break the curse the traditional way,” she continues. Jim croaks indignantly. There isn’t even a non-Federation planet with a monarchy within three days travel on a starship. He’s going to be stuck as a frog forever.

“You should have listened, Jim. I warned you,” she says and sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d do some weirdass voodoo witch shit on me Carol. I thought you might slap me,” he points out. Carol reaches down and scoops him up. He struggles, but though he’s slimy, he’s also surprisingly soft and he doesn’t want to break anything. He stills in her grip as she walks to the window.

“Your heart is cold and closed off, Jim. Think of this as a learning curve for you. And a message loud and clear that you are _not_ welcome,” she says as she opens a window. She places Jim on the windowsill outside. Jim is hyperaware of a spider crawling along the window frame. It is considerably bigger looking than normal. He croaks and edges away from it in disgust.

“And just _where_ am I meant to find a princess, Carol? If you haven’t noticed, Earth hasn’t had a monarchy in _hundreds_ of years,” he points out. Carol shrugs, tapping him on the head with her index finger.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way to break the curse somewhere,” she says nonchalantly and then closes the window and draws the curtains. Jim stares at the closed window for a long moment and resolves that if he is permanently turned into a frog, he’s going to sit here every night, croaking as loudly as he can. It would teach her right to get no sleep when he’s covered in… _mucus_.

* * *

 

It turns out being a frog is much harder than Jim ever thought it would be. He’s got natural predators, which means he actually can’t just hang out anywhere. The sun dries his skin and makes him hot and he has to duck into ponds and streams in order to re-slime himself. Not to mention the fact that he’s getting hungry and he gets the feeling that his innards are hankering after some choice flies rather than a tasty hamburger.

He’s miserable and feeling sorry for himself when midday approaches. He’s found some overgrown pond to sit in. The house it belongs to is big. There’s a dilapidated swing on the lawn, which is vaguely neat so someone must live there. Someone who clearly had better things to worry about than whether he had some weeds in his pond or whether the chains on the swing had rusted stiff.

The door opens and a man steps out. He’s wearing nothing but a bathrobe and sweatpants and in his hand there’s a bottle of whiskey. He looks like he has already started drinking and Jim can think of nothing better than joining him. Unfortunately he’s a goddamn frog, so he’s not exactly going to get any of that whiskey any time soon. Besides, this guy looks like it’s his intention to drink every last drop.

The man walks up the garden to some stained garden furniture, sinking into it and unscrewing the bottle, pouring himself a healthy measure and downing it. He barely even grimaces and Jim’s got to admire the skill to neck whiskey with that much skill. The man wipes the back of his hand across the back of his mouth and then rubs at his stubble thoughtfully, before placing the bottle on the table and leaning back.

Jim can appreciate the man’s apparent attractiveness despite the alcohol sweats and three day beard. He jumps out of the pond to get a better look because, hey, he’s just a frog and he can probably perv all he likes without suspicion.

He hops through the grass until he’s looking up and up muscular thighs at the man. The man has hazel eyes, though their glassy with drink, and his mouth his full and firm looking. Jim lets out an involuntary croak and he suddenly feels eyes focus on him.

The man stares at him for a moment before getting to his feet. Jim immediately panics and tries to escape. He figures if he gets to the pond the man won’t be able to get him and do… whatever it is humans do to frogs. But even tipsy, the man is faster than he looks because he picks Jim up mid-hop.

The man doesn’t hurt him though, just looks at him curiously.

“Guess I’m gonna have to dredge the pond,” the man says to himself and Jim’s heart is still racing as the man wraps his fingers around him more tightly. “Can’t have these critters taking over the garden if I’m going to sell the place…” His voice is a Georgia drawl that sounds like honeyed Jack Daniels to Jim’s ears.

“I kind of like your pond as it is,” Jim says and the next thing he knows he’s falling through the air. The man is stepping away, eyes going between Jim, who landed with a splat on the floor and is busy righting himself, and the bottle of whiskey. “It’s not the ‘demon drink’ or anything, man. It’s just a little talking frog.”

The man looks like he’s going to pass out. His mouth is opening and closing quickly.

“Y-You’re…?” he says and he finally just sits down in the grass. Jim hops over, wondering if it’s possible for the other to tell he’s grinning. Maybe?

“A frog, yeah. Name’s Jim Kirk. Howdy,” he says and yes, perhaps it’s cocky, but seriously, what’s he got to lose? The man stares at him for a long time.

“Leonard McCoy,” he says finally. Jim croaks in response and then hops closer once again. He crawls onto one of the very shapely thighs that he had been admiring earlier. McCoy is looking at him like he’s about to explode.

“So, can you hold off on dredging the pond for a few days? You see, I’ve got this short-term amphibian problem and was hoping to use it as a sweet crib to bring my lady-frogs back to,” Jim says. McCoy is still staring at him like he’s something bizarre and distasteful. Then Jim remembers he’s a talking fucking frog and guesses that he should be more worried if McCoy _doesn’t_ react that way.

“I guess… No wait! I don’t want frogspawn in there! That isn’t some amphibian bachelor pad!” McCoy looks suddenly irate. Jim slips a little as he repositions himself on the man’s leg.

“Firstly, okay, ew, that was an image I _really_ didn’t need. Secondly, it’s only _short-term_. I’m totally going to find a princess to kiss me or something in a day or two and be my usual handsome self again,” Jim says, though he knows it’s not true. McCoy looks like he’s going to blow a blood vessel in his temple.

“And I guess she has to kiss you? Well, good luck with that Slimy,” McCoy says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Jim puffs up. As a human he’d have squared his shoulders and set his jaw, but it seems as a frog that equates to inflating his throat like a kid blowing bubbles. He doubts it’s intimidating.

“Look dude, chances are I’m stuck as a frog forever but seriously, I can’t take this heat right now without some water. Dredge that pond and you might as well stomp on me now,” he says and maybe it’s the seriousness of his tone, maybe McCoy actually has some compassion, because the man’s gaze softens slightly.

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this…” the man mutters and he picks Jim up, putting him on his open palm and bringing him up to eye level. “Come in the house. I’ll get you some fresh water and you can tell me your story. It’s gotta beat hanging out in that no doubt disease infested puddle.”

Jim allows himself to be taken inside. McCoy is true to his word and soon he’s sat in a bowl of shallow water. McCoy makes himself coffee and stares at him the entire time. Jim tries not to wriggle about too much or seem too froglike unless McCoy actually throws him out.

“So what’s your story kid?” he asks finally and Jim does shift uncomfortably then.

“I hit on a woman… without realising I’d kind of had a thing with her best friend that hadn’t ended on polite terms… She turned me into a frog,” he says and it’s weird because it sounds ridiculous and yet McCoy doesn’t seem to be that phased by it now he’s got over the initial weirdness. In fact, McCoy just nods and makes a noise in the back of his throat.

“So you gotta find a princess huh? S’gonna be tough work ‘round here,” he says. Jim knows this, he doesn’t need reminding. He moves and the water splashes a little around him.

“I’m not going to be a frog forever. I don’t believe in no-win scenarios,” he says. McCoy sips his coffee and doesn’t comment. They spent a few minutes in silence before McCoy sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“I guess I could get on the net though… See if there’s any visitin’ dignitaries from off-world,” he offers. Jim lets out an excited ribbit and tries to cover it behind a cough. McCoy looks amused.

“If you could, man, that’d be great,” he says. McCoy nods and puts down his coffee mug. He picks up the bowl Jim is in and takes him into his office.

Two hours later and their search is exhausted. There are no royals currently visiting officially. They have an argument about whether or not a certain diplomat’s daughter classes as a princess, since her title is hereditary, but in the end, they agree that it’s not like Jim can even get from Georgia to Dubai in three days, even if he did somehow manage to stow away on a shuttle and the pressure in the cargo hold didn’t kill him.

“Looks like you’re going to be green and slimy for a while kid,” McCoys says. Jim pouts and dips under the water a little.

McCoy gets up then, without a word, and leaves the room. He can hear the other moving about and half an hour later the man returns, clean-shaven and dressed. Jim has to admit that McCoy looks _damn_ fine when he’s scrubbed up. He looks like he’s sobered up as well, though Jim supposes that finding a talking frog will do that to you.

“I have to go pick up my daughter from playgroup,” McCoy says and Jim nods. “Don’t do anything… weird while I’m out.”

Jim should be offended but he’s too depressed to respond. McCoy leaves and Jim sits, stewing in the cool water and staring at the search results that are through to page 194.

“I’m absolutely fucking screwed.”

* * *

 

Joanna McCoy finds him _fascinating_. Jim actually really likes her. McCoy has firmly established that Joanna isn’t to touch him, but the little girl sits staring at him the whole time. She also won’t shut up, chattering about everything and anything she can.

Jim guesses it’s kind of cute. He’d probably have liked it more if he could have interacted with her as a human. As it is, he feels a little intimidated, a little exasperated and really damn hungry.

Joanna waits until her dad is out of the room before she tries her first attempt to touch him. He backs away from her outstretched hand and misbalances. He splats against the side of the bowl and before he knows it, it’s tipped up and water is spreading across McCoy’s comm unit.

Joanna’s eyes are wide.

“Uh oh,” she says as she backs away. Jim sees the water spreading and hops onto the floor. There’s a spark of electricity.

“Joanna, get back!” he warns her and hops at her. He’s got no force to his movements, but apparently a face full of cold, wet, slime will make a girl jump back with a scream. She overbalances and Jim feels her hand collide with him as his descent to the floor is interrupted with a hard sideways swipe. He’s sent towards the wall, hitting it so hard that he feels like all his innards have rattled. He slides down the wall, staying still and willing the pain away.

Joanna’s scream has drawn McCoy and he sees the water and the water dripping steadily against the plug socket. At that moment the fuses blow and the power shuts off. Joanna is crying on the floor, rubbing her eyes and wailing. McCoy bends down to check she’s not injured before he sees Jim on the floor.

“What happened?” McCoy asks. Jim tries to hop over, but his leg is twisted painfully. He drags himself towards them, trying to ignore the sharp pains that are slowly overriding his body.

“I tipped over the water bowl,” Jim says, not wanting it to seem like he was shifting blame. “I jumped at her to get her to move away and she screamed and knocked me away.”

McCoy is looking at him, trying to assess him. He guesses it’s hard to tell if a frog is lying. McCoy then turns his gaze down to the crying girl in his arms. “Joanna, is that the truth?” he asks.

Joanna looks at her father and it’s all McCoy seems to need to know it isn’t the full story. “Joanna,” he says warningly and she bursts into tears afresh.

“I just wanted to hold him!” she protests. McCoy sighs and looks at Jim again, but this time with different eyes. He sees Jim’s injury and his frown increases.

“You’re hurt. Did Joanna do that?” he asks. Jim tries to pull his leg in, tries to make it not look too bad.

“It’s nothing,” he says but McCoy is reaching for him. Delicately McCoy begins to run his fingertips over Jim’s slimed flesh. It’s strange, because were he human the touch would almost certainly be inappropriate. He hisses in pain when McCoy tries to straighten his leg.

“Right, I’m no specialist on frogs, but I’ve done plenty of doctorin’ on humans. Joanna, go fetch the lollipop sticks we were gonna use to make those popsicles,” he orders. Joanna is clearly glad that she’s not being told off and runs off to do as she’s told. Jim squirms against McCoy’s touch.

“You’re a doctor?” he asks. McCoy smiles grimly.

“I was,” he replies and Jim guesses there’s a story there but he isn’t sure this is the right time to ask about it.

Fifteen minutes later he’s got a small split on his froggy leg and is resting once more in a bowl of water. This time he’s being held in McCoy’s lap as the doctor makes Joanna write an apology letter to him. Joanna can’t actually write it herself, she’s too young, but she’s copying the letters dot-to-dot over her father’s faint tracings with her tongue between her teeth, and Jim thinks that’s perfectly good enough.

“And then it’s going to be dinner and straight to bed,” McCoy is saying. “You have got to be respectful of other people, Joanna, no matter whether they look like humans, animals or other species.”

He admires McCoy’s ability to turn this into a lesson about galactic harmony, but he’s aware as the sun sets that his first day out of three has been wasted and with a busted leg, he isn’t likely to get further.

He stays with McCoy the rest of the evening, listening to the father and daughter chatter over dinner and then McCoy reading his daughter a story before bed as he tucks her in.

He wishes he’d known McCoy when he was a man. He is sure that they’d have got along. Not to mention the man is absolutely smoking hot and if Jim had the correct equipment at that moment, he’d have definitely wanted to have tried it out on the doctor.

As it is, it’s just wishes though. He crawls out of his bowl and makes his way slowly across the side to the window sill.

The stars shine down on him through the window pane, but all he can feel is regret.

* * *

 

The next day McCoy takes him out with Joanna to the local park. Jim doesn’t know what purpose that might serve, because he’s hardly going to find a princess there but he lets himself be dragged along. Joanna meets a friend and they go to play house inside one of the climbing frames.

McCoy sits with a frog on his lap as though it’s a normal thing and ignores the strange looks he’s getting. Jim watches Joanna carefully.

“Where’s Joanna’s mom?” he asks, as Joanna tells off her ‘baby’, who is actually a four year old girl. McCoy tenses under his webbed feet.

“She left,” he says and doesn’t elaborate. Jim senses the issue is a tough one and decides not to push it. His injured leg is curled up under his cold, wet belly, the make-shift splints digging into his gut. He can’t get comfortable but he doesn’t want to squirm too much. He’s aware that being a frog and all, it can’t be particularly nice to have him on his lap anyway.

“I haven’t spoken to my mom in years. Hasn’t done me any harm,” Jim decides to prattle. There’s a snort from above him and he looks up to see McCoy is staring at him in disbelief.

“What?” he asks. McCoy rolls his eyes.

“You’re a _frog_ Jim. I’m not sure your mother could have done much to prevent it, bar from beat some respect for women into you,” he says. Jim swells up indignantly, his throat stretching uncomfortably as a croak tears free of his mouth.

“I’ll have you know I was perfectly respectful to women, thank you very much! I just didn’t want what Christine wanted! And she knew that from the start! The fact that her heart got broken was more to do with her expecting more from me than me being an asshole,” he says. McCoy raises an eyebrow at that.

“Obviously not everyone agreed with your perspective,” he comments. Jim tries not to feel picked on, but maybe McCoy is right. It isn’t that he’s never thought about his life style, he’s self-aware enough to know he’s a playboy who can’t commit, but he’s always thought that everyone knew that. That no one would come to Jim Kirk wanting anything more than a tryst that would leave them gasping and him satisfied for another night.

“I guess not,” he agrees and goes silent for a moment, watching Joanna play. He’s startled when he feels a warm fingertip slide down his back. He looks round again, but McCoy isn’t looking at him directly, he’s probably unaware he’s doing it. Even so his touch is gentle down the cold skin of Jim’s back and he can’t help but shudder a little.

Joanna runs over then, babbling nonsense and asking for ice cream and to visit the zoo and can she please have a sleepover and invite the new friend she’d made? Jim listens with half an ear, his attention mostly focused on the soft fingertip that’s sliding over his skin. McCoy lifts him as he stands, cradling him gently and then carefully depositing him in his coat pocket. Jim peeks his head out in order to breathe.

They go to an ice cream parlour and Joanna sneaks Jim bits of her ice cream. McCoy doesn’t scold her, but he frowns whenever Jim’s tongue snakes out to take some from the spoon. He soon learns his limit for sweet things is considerably smaller than he thought, as he starts to feel distinctly unwell when he’s returned to McCoy’s pocket a few minutes later and desperately tries not to vomit in the man’s pocket on the way back to the house.

Once he’s there, he gratefully returns to his bowl, sitting in it and trying to keep down strawberry ice cream with chocolate sauce. He lies back in the water, letting it slosh over his slightly overheated body, and tries to gain his bearings.

Being a frog sucks. And he’s going to have to get used to it because there’s literally no one to free him from this curse. He stews, trying to imagine what his life will be like from this point on. He can’t stay with the McCoys forever. If he’s going to be a frog for the rest of his life, staying around humans will be too painful.

Until his leg heals though, he supposes he’s stuck here.

“You look miserable,” McCoy comments as he makes himself coffee. McCoy drinks a lot of coffee, Jim realises. He lets out a croak in response before he rolls over onto his stomach.

“How can you even tell? You the Frog Whisperer?” he asks and McCoy chuckles and shakes his head.

“Nah. But I like to think I can sense a black cloud of melancholy well enough to not be able to read your facial expressions per se,” he admits, watching as coffee slowly drips into his cup. Jim wriggles forward, putting his front… -- paws? What even _are_ his hands called now?—on the side of the bowl and watching McCoy.

“Is this an attempt to have a heart-to-heart McCoy?” he asks and McCoy huffs, folding his arms. The man doesn’t look annoyed as such, more concerned.

“Look, you’ve gone through a traumatic experience and as stupid as it sounds, I’m just tryin’ to be someone you can talk to about it… You know, if you want to? I trained a bit in psychology, though not anything special mind and I just…” McCoy throws up his hands, obviously not knowing how to express himself properly. “I just thought you might want to talk but I guess not.”

He takes his coffee and leaves the room. Jim stares at his back as he goes. McCoy is a good man and Jim feels a twinge in his stomach that feels a little like guilt and a lot like affection and he buries it deep, deeper, refusing to acknowledge it or what it might mean.

He spends fifteen more minutes lounging in the water before he finally drags himself out of it. Clambering down from his perch takes time with his busted leg, but he manages it eventually and drags himself across the kitchen tiles towards the hall.

He finds McCoy in his office. Joanna is watching television in the lounge, the sound of cartoons loud and cheerful and drifting into the office. Jim manages to flatten himself and squish himself under the door, which grosses him out as useful as he finds it.

McCoy is sat at his desk, staring out of the window. In his hand he has a letter. He appears to be lost, deep in thought. His coffee is cooled on the desk, virtually untouched. Jim steels himself, leaping onto the desk with a splat and tipping over a pot of pens. McCoy jumps, shouting out loud and then his eyes focus on Jim.

“Jesus, kid, you gave me a heart-attack,” he says. Jim hunches a little.

“Sorry, man,” he says and he knows he’s apologising for being a dick earlier too. He looks up at McCoy and realises that McCoy understands that too. There’s warmth to his hazel eyes that seems fond.

“Yeah well you can pick up all my pencils,” he says. Jim immediately starts to move the pencils back into the pot, grimacing as he has to strain a little to move the cumbersomely long implements. McCoy doesn’t help him though, just takes a sip of his coffee and grimaces when he realises he’s let it go cold.

“You looked out of it earlier,” Jim says and trails off. He doesn’t know if McCoy wants to talk, but it seems that this time the other does because McCoy just lays out the letter he was holding on the desk. Jim hops over to it, sitting back so he can read. The script is floaty and elegant, the penmanship of a woman who has spent a lot of time and care on presentation.

The words within are staunched in formality, and every quiet tone of affection seems muted because of it. Even words like ‘My dearest son…’ seem distant and the ‘with all my love and affections’ at the end seems forced. Jim carefully folds it up, feeling like he’s folding a particularly stiff bed sheet as he does so.

“She wants me to move back in with her. Take Joanna back to the ranch and leave this place in the city,” McCoy says, as though Jim hadn’t read the letter himself. Jim makes a small noise in his throat. “I was going to refuse. My life might not be here, but Joanna’s is. Now though… It might be a good idea.”

Jim wonders what has changed McCoy’s mind. The letter is only dated a week old. What has changed in a week to make McCoy want to leave the city completely? Jim knows he was planning on selling his house, but he clearly had no intentions of returning home.

“There’s a pond, you know, at the ranch. A massive one. And clear as crystal…” McCoy trails off and Jim gets where this is going. It’s strange because he’s known McCoy about 24 hours and this is kind of like adopting him. He can’t help but feel a little touched by the gesture. It’s like McCoy knows he doesn’t have anywhere to go and no chance of being turned back.

“I think I’d prefer a swimming pool if you’ve got one of them. Less natural predators,” Jim replies, trying to stay light-hearted because if he seriously starts thinking like that he has to admit to himself that his future is that of a green amphibian and it’s almost too much to bear. McCoy’s mouth twitches into a small smile.

“Yeah perhaps you’re right there…” he admits and leans down. He’s eye level with Jim now and Jim can see the flecks of green in his hazel eyes and the long lashes that frame them. He desperately wishes he’d met McCoy in different circumstances. As it is, he just lets out a feeble croak.

“I think we should look again for some royals. There might have been a change since yesterday,” McCoy says and Jim nods. McCoy leans back and holds out his hand for Jim to crawl onto. He climbs McCoy like a tree, which actually amuses him enough that he lets out a small chuckle at his own entendre, and he settles himself on the man’s shoulder. His cold body presses against McCoy’s neck and he feels a shudder go down the man’s spine.

“Sorry,” he mutters but McCoy just waves a hand.

“It’s fine. You’re just cold,” he replies as he boots up his comms unit and starts his search.

“Yeah it’s weird to me too. I used to be one of those hot-blooded types, you know? Never felt the cold, always moving and that. Now I just seem to want to be cold all the time,” he says. McCoy grunts in response, clearly not knowing what to say about that. They search in silence for a while, Jim feeling his heart sinking into his stomach as they go through page after page of results and still come up with nothing.

“Maybe we’re looking at this wrong?” McCoy asks finally, rubbing at his forehead and taking them back to the first page of results. He types in ‘frog fairy stories’ and hits enter. Jim watches as fairy tales from all over the world begin to filter through.

“Well, let’s start with the Grimm version,” McCoy says, following the links through until they find a description. “Was a golden ball involved?”

Jim thinks about it for a moment. “Not that I can think of.”

“Well, the first one is the princess’ kiss that should transform you, but we can’t do that… Wait! It says here that the frog is sometimes transformed by being thrown against the wall by-“ McCoy stops talking as Jim shifts uneasily on his shoulder. He’s already been thrown against the wall once, and he neither transformed, nor was it particularly pleasant. He doesn’t want to try that method again.

“Yeah, we’ll skip that one. You could spend the night on… does it have to be a Princess’ pillow you reckon?” McCoy asks and Jim sighs.

“Well, I could sleep on _your_ pillow tonight and see if that works,” Jim replies. McCoy actually turns a little pink at that and Jim is surprised by it. McCoy has been so handsy with him, that the other has probably forgotten that he was a man. He probably wouldn’t relish the thought of waking up with a fully human Jim beside him.

“It’s worth a shot,” McCoy says though. It’s Jim’s turn to feel embarrassed. He’s not sure if frogs can blush, but he’s definitely feeling warm around the cheeks. He hops off McCoy’s shoulder and lands on the desk.

“Um…. Sure. Just don’t squash me in the night,” he says, trying to act nonchalant and knowing that he’s failing. McCoy looks at the clock on the wall.

“I better get Joanna her lunch,” he says and gets to his feet. He looks as though he’s going to offer to carry Jim out of the room but decides against it at the last minute and then disappears out of the room. Jim stares at the comm screen.

There’s a portrait there. Meyerheim. It shows a beautiful blond woman, crowned and pale, her eyes on a frog while her body is turned bashfully away. She is clutching a golden ball that matches the golden locks tumbling down her back. Her dress is a periwinkle blue, rich and flowing around her.

She is not the princess that Jim imagines.

* * *

 

That night Jim reads Joanna a bed time story. She wants to hear the Princess and the Frog, of course she does, but Jim reads her the story of Ali Baba instead. She turns the pages when he tells her to and is the perfect audience as he reads to her. It helps that he’s about the same size as the figures in the book and so if he draws up on his hind legs he can stand in Ali Baba’s place and pretend to open the magic cave and fight the thieves. By the end, Joanna is giggling.

He does get her to lie down though. Tucking her in is hard and he’s glad that McCoy appears at that moment to do it. He’s scooped up by soft hands and placed on McCoy’s shoulder once more as the other leans down to kiss his daughter’s forehead and turn off the lamp.

They don’t talk as they make their way to the master bedroom. McCoy silently puts him on the bed before disappearing to brush his teeth and then returning. He’s wearing boxers and a thin t-shirt. Jim crawls up the blankets before McCoy pulls them aside and climbs in.

There’s an awkward moment where McCoy is getting comfortable and he keeps shifting. Jim waits until he stills before he hops onto the pillow by McCoy’s head. He can smell the man’s shampoo on his hair, and the mint of his toothpaste. He settles on the soft surface and tries not to freak out too much about the situation.

He’s starting to doze when McCoy breaks the silence. “What if this doesn’t work, Jim? I’m not royalty,” he says. He doesn’t turn to face him and Jim is grateful. He suddenly doesn’t want to be seen. He doesn’t want McCoy to think of him as a frog. Like this, in the dark, not facing each other, they could just be two people in the same room. Perhaps.

“Then we haven’t lost anything,” Jim replies. He rests his webbed hand on McCoy’s hair and starts to threat through it. He knows he’s leaving stickiness behind, but McCoy makes a small noise that sounds like he’s soothed.

“We’ve lost time, Jim. Your time,” he replies and Jim closes his eyes and tries to remind himself that it’s not the end of the world if he remains a frog. He can work around it. He can probably even find some scientists to help him come up with a cure. Or physicists. Or whoever deals with people being turned into animals.

“This’ll work Leonard,” he says firmly. He hears McCoy’s breath catch, though he doesn’t know why or what it means.

“How can you be so sure?” he asks and Jim doesn’t have an answer. He suddenly wants to tell Leonard how gorgeous he found him when he was in the pond, how he’s witnessed McCoy’s kindness, his love for his daughter, a hundred small things that have shown him that Leonard McCoy is a Good Man. That perhaps it doesn’t need to be a princess or a prince…

“I just am, Bones,” he says. There’s silence for a moment.

“Bones?” McCoy asks. Jim ribbits in response.

“You’re a doctor, aren’t you?” he replies. McCoy hums and doesn’t say anything for a few moments. His breathing evens and he’s asleep.

Jim is sure it’ll work. It has to. He has to become human again.

He will wake up human.

* * *

 

Except he doesn’t. He wakes up dry and hot and tangled in McCoy’s hair. He feels like his skin is going to crack and he hops across McCoy’s face by accident causing the other to wake up with a yell. He plops into McCoy’s lap and stares up at the other as he tries to rub sleep out of his eyes.

“Any chance of rehydrating me?” Jim asks. McCoy looks down at him and Jim can see the crushing disappointment written across his face. It hurts Jim, on an almost physical level, because they’ve failed and he’s going to be a frog forever, but also because he’s seeing that expression on McCoy’s face.

“Yeah, sure kid,” he says and he scoops Jim up and takes him to the bathroom. Jim is deposited in the sink, the tap turned on and allowed to run as Jim relieves his hot body under the cold spray. McCoy excuses himself and Jim hears the toilet flushing from the main bathroom before the other returns.

McCoy begins to check him over, stretching out his injured leg and declaring it pretty much fixed. He removes the splints and bins them before turning back to Jim.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Jim looks up at him from underneath the pouring water and wonders what he can say in response.

“Hey, we tried,” he says and tries not to sound too sad. “At least we _tried_.”

* * *

 

They take Joanna to play group. She’s bouncing off the walls, excited to see her friends and Jim sits in McCoy’s pocket trying not to mope. He’s got less than twelve hours left and no idea how he’s going to turn himself back.

He can’t stay with McCoy though. He’s decided that much. It hurts, to see what McCoy has, to see what McCoy _is_ and to be unable to do anything because he’s small and slimy and _green_. He hates it all.

As they walk, Joanna tells them all the things she plans to do that day without seeming to pause for breath. Jim is going to miss her. He listens to her start to talk about the dressing up games she plays when he sees platinum blond hair.

He focuses and realises that, yes, it is her. It’s Carol. She’s clutching a latte and she’s talking on her phone. Jim doesn’t even think. He launches himself out of McCoy’s pocket, landing on the sidewalk before desperately trying to get across the road.

“Jim!” he hears McCoy shout but he pays no attention. His mind is on getting to Carol. She hears McCoy’s shout and turns, her eyes first landing on McCoy but then dropping to the floor to scan for him. When she sees him her mouth thins into a line.

“Carol! I’ve got to talk to you!” Jim says but Carol scoops him up without answering. She turns back inside the coffee shop she’s just exited, making straight for the bathroom and locking them in. She tosses Jim into the sink and stares at him.

“Well you’re still a frog I see,” she says, and Jim feels the desperate urge to tell her not to be so flippant and to understand but he’s not sure he can.

“I need you to take this spell off me, Carol. _Please_ ,” he says, hoping that he looks appropriately desperate but not sure how it can be portrayed as a frog. She looks down at him for a long moment.

“You finally understand the ramifications of your actions, I see,” she says and Jim croaks at her.

“Please Carol! You don’t understand! I can’t stay like this! I just can’t!” he begs. There’s banging on the door from outside.

“Jim?! Jim are you in there?”

It’s McCoy. He’s followed them and Jim feels fear coursing through him. This is his chance. This is his last chance to be human and perhaps, just perhaps, stand a chance with that man beyond the door. Carol frowns.

“You expect me to believe you’ve changed? You’re just chasing new tail and can’t score because you’re green,” she says, though she sounds unsure. Jim is shaking. He can feel himself trembling and he’s not even sure what he’s going to say until it’s out.

“You don’t understand. He’s a single father. He lives in this neighbourhood. He’s kind and he’s done so much for me. He’s been looking after me, trying to find a cure for me and hell, he might not even want anything to do with me when I’m human, but I can’t do anything for him as a frog,” Jim says, his voice a whispered plea. Carol puts her finger to her lips as she thinks and then shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, Jim. I can’t break the spell. Only you can do that,” she says and Jim stares at her, feeling the last shreds of hope flayed from his body. He collapses against the porcelain of the sink, his whole body feeling limp, listless, lifeless. He doesn’t want to be a frog. He can’t be a frog forever.

“At least now you understand what it’s like, to want to be with someone, even if you know it’s hopeless,” Carol is standing up now, dusting off her clothes. She unlocks the door. “I hope you stick with him Jim. Even as a frog, you can offer more than you know.”

She opens the door and nearly gets hit in the face by a frantic McCoy. The man blinks when he sees her and she excuses herself as she passes. McCoy steps inside, taking in Jim’s defeated form in the sink and leaning over him.

“Is she the bitch that cursed you?” he asks. Joanna squeaks from the door, obviously not prepared to hear her father swear. McCoy doesn’t seem to care though, his eyes narrowed and dark. Dangerous. Jim stirs enough to reach out for McCoy.

He’s instantly scooped up into long-fingered hands and he shudders there as he lets out a sob.

“It’s hopeless, Bones… Just hopeless.”

* * *

 

They take Joanna to play group but McCoy doesn’t stop holding Jim. It’s as close to an embrace as Jim can get now, the careful curl of those fingers around him. The other adults give McCoy a weird look but they don’t say anything and he sits in the corner watching Joanna play.

She doesn’t understand why her father and newfound friend are so upset, and runs off to children who aren’t grumpy to play. She is straight in the dressing up box, pulling out police badges and fireman’s helmets and fairy wings with her friends.

“I want to be human, Bones,” Jim whispers. He feels McCoy squeeze him gently and he tries to be reassured by it. “I want to be able to live my dreams. You know, I was maybe going to join Starfleet one day?”

McCoy made a noise in the back of his throat and Jim continued. “I wanted a family too. I guess seeing you and Joanna reminded me how much I really had wanted it. I want to be able to tuck a child in, I want to be able to run around and play with them, I want…”

“Jim…” McCoy’s voice is gentle and Jim can feel the other’s hands sliding over him, over and over, trying to offer comfort but not knowing _how_.

“Why did I have to meet you like this?!” Jim hisses, feeling his frustration and anger bubbling out. The hands on him still, and McCoy takes a shaky breath.

“Kid, it’s alright. Frog or not, you can stay with me and Joanna,” he says and Jim turns now, so he can look up at the other, take in this handsome face one last time before he says the damning words and has to run away. He takes a deep breath.

“I can’t, Bones. I can’t because seeing you every day and knowing that I can’t _be_ with you properly would-“

“Why are you talking to a frog?”

Jim croaks in surprise and turns to see Joanna is there with another boy. She’s dressed up in layers and layers of pink tulle and has a tiara on her head. The boy has a sword and, bizarrely, a chef’s hat. Joanna is pouting.

“That’s Jim! Jim’s a prince who has been turned into a frog!” she says confidently. McCoy tries to cover up the awkwardness with a laugh.

“Prove it! If he’s a frog prince then he’ll turn into a real prince if you kiss him!” the boy says. It’s clear he just wants Joanna to have to kiss a frog and Jim scowls at him.

“That’s right!” McCoy says suddenly. “You’re a princess, right Joanna?” Jim watches as Joanna nods, unsure of herself. “You’ve got a crown and everything. And as long as you’re a princess, if you kiss Jim he’ll turn into a prince. I’m sure of it!”

Joanna winces but she steps forward. The boy behind her has a smirk on his face and Jim looks at McCoy with exasperation. This won’t work. If it were as simple as just _believing_ you were a princess, then Jim could have just got McCoy to imagine it the previous night when they’d shared the same pillow.

Joanna leans forward and presses her warm lips to the top of his head. He doesn’t suddenly grow. He doesn’t suddenly stop being cold-blooded and green. He doesn’t do anything apart from ribbit in response.

“It was worth a try,” McCoy says, though he sounds upset by the response. Jim just hops off McCoy’s lap. It’s time to leave. He’s admitted all there is to admit, he’s done all there is to do. They’ve tried everything and he can’t bear to see McCoy a moment longer. Joanna is scrubbing her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Jim where are you going?” he asks but Jim doesn’t respond. He aims for an open window and he’s gone. He can hear McCoy calling him, but he doesn’t wait for a response. He’s going to be a frog forever, and McCoy doesn’t deserve that, deserves the sun and the moon and the stars, but from Jim.

Still when nightfall comes, he finds himself in McCoy’s pond, sitting amongst the lily pads and weeds and watching as lights turn on and off inside the house. Finally the lights upstairs switch off. He’s about to go, to say his final goodbye when the back door opens.

McCoy steps out. In his hand he’s carrying a small thing. It catches in the moonlight. Jim realises what it is. It’s a Christmas bauble, gold and glittery. He moves back into the weeds as McCoy approaches.

“This is probably stupid but here goes,” he says and drops the bauble into the pond. Jim watches it catch the light as it floats about. McCoy stares at it for a long time.

“You know, I don’t ask for much, but just this once, I’d like something. I’d like a chance to prove something to someone. I know you’re meant to drop money down wishing wells, not golden balls into stagnant ponds, but this is the best I’ve got right now. So whoever is dealing in these magic spells, can you just give me a goddamn break?” he asks. Jim stares for a moment. Maybe he is expecting some fairy godmother to appear? But nothing comes.

McCoy’s face is still hopeful though, still shining with something that pulls on Jim’s heart. He moves forward, disturbing the water and feels McCoy’s eyes narrow and focus on him. He moves towards the bauble and pushes it towards the edge, climbing out and holding it out to the other.

“If it’s a case of wishing, Bones, trust me, I’ve tried,” he says. McCoy doesn’t take the offered bauble. Instead he picks Jim up and for a moment Jim is disorientated. He doesn’t know where he is or what’s going on.

Then there are soft lips against his own mouth and he feels like he can’t breathe.

There’s a tearing, stretching sensation. He feels he’s being pulled in every direction all at once. He can’t move but he’s definitely _moving._ Up and down, sideways, outwards and inwards, everything is readjusting, the only thing unchanging being McCoy’s mouth against his own.

And just as suddenly as it started, it’s stopped. He’s pulling away and looking at McCoy with eyes that are bright and blue. He’s smiling with a human mouth and licking his lips with a shorter, less stretchy tongue. His naked skin is pink and slightly marred with pond slime.

And McCoy is staring at him with more wonder than he stared at a talking frog.

“Jim?” he breathes and Jim leans forward, trying to claim those lips again, desperate to feel them against his own. He gets a hand over his mouth though, McCoy holding him at arm’s length.

“Absolutely no way, kiddo. You’re covered in pond slime and you smell like drain. Go get yourself cleaned up,” McCoy barks and Jim ducks away from the hand. He can see McCoy’s eyes wandering over his body, can see the way the man’s lips have twitched upwards into a happy smile.

“Alright, alright, I’ll shower. Then you’re going to explain to me, in detail, the reasons why you thought it was a good idea to kiss a _frog_ when it was covered in pond slime and smelled like a drain.”

McCoy just laughs.

* * *

 

_Dear Joanna,_

_Your father and I miss you a lot! You wouldn’t believe how stressful a five year mission is! I hope you’re listening to your grandmother and not getting into too much trouble out at the ranch! And yes, next time your father and I get some vacation time, we’re going to arrange for you to come visit us in San Francisco and I promise we’ll take you to have a look at the Enterprise. She’s beautiful. I’ll even let you sit in the Captain’s chair!_

_Your grandmother told me you dropped your fairy tale book in the pond and the pages have disintegrated so I’m sending you this one from my memory. I think you’ll like it. It’s one of my favourites. It’s called ‘The Annoying Young Man and His Cantankerous Doctor Friend’._

_One fine afternoon a young doctor put on his bathrobe and got a bottle of Jack (if you don’t know what this is, ask your grandma), and went out to sit in his garden and enjoy the weather; and when he came to a manky old pond with a load of weeds in the middle of it, he sat himself down to rest a while._

_Now whilst he was out there, the doctor saw a frog and thought out-loud to himself that he really ought to dredge the pond and stop the frogs from living in it._ _Whilst he was speaking, the frog said, 'I kind of like your pond how it is.'_

_The doctor thought he was going mad, but he agreed to leave the pond and take the frog in. The frog explained that he had been cursed and together the doctor and the frog worked to discover how to break the curse. They tried_ _all manner of things, they shared a pillow, they threw golden balls into ponds, even had a princess kiss the frog, but alas, it didn’t work._

_The frog became desperate to become a human again, because he had fallen in love with the doctor. He didn’t know, but the doctor had fallen in love with him too. Even though he was slimy and icky. So on the final night, the frog ran away, too hurt to stay. But he stayed in the pond outside, watching over the doctor and his pretty princess daughter._

_The doctor visited the pond and threw in a golden ball, wishing for the frog to come out. The frog did and he was surprised when the doctor kissed him! And what broke the curse? True love’s kiss of course!_

_Actually, no it wasn’t, but it’d be a better story if it was. The frog had been fated to be an amphibian till someone should take him out of the pond and allow him into their home for three days._

_'You,' said the_ _frog_ _, 'have broken_ _t_ _his cruel charm, and now I have nothing to wish for but that you should go with me into_ _Starfleet_ _, where I will marry you, and love you as long as you live.'_

_Well, he said something like that anyway._

_The_ _doctor_ _, you may be sure, was not long in saying 'Yes' to all this_ _(okay numerous years but people aren’t really counting anymore right?)_ _; and as they spoke a brightly coloured_ _shuttle_ _drove up, with_ _Captain Pike at the helm_ _, decked with_ _Starfleet Insignia_ _and a_ _n invite to Starfleet in gold letters_ _; and behind the coach rode_ _a Commander_ _, faithful_ _Spock_ _, who had bewailed the misfortunes of his dear_ _Captain_ _during his enchantment so long and so bitterly, that his heart had well-nigh burst._ _(Actually, Spock and I didn’t even know each other, and I can’t imagine Spock’s heart well-nigh bursting from anything but the story demanded someone here!)._

_They then took leave of_ _Georgia_ _, and got into the_ _shuttle after dropping the princess off at her grandmother’s_ _, and all set out, full of joy and merriment, for the prince's kingdom, which they reached safely; and there they lived happily a great many years._

_Hope you enjoyed the story Joanna! See you soon sweetheart._

_Love_

_Uncle Jim_

**Author's Note:**

> Jim's letter at the end is a re-written version of the Princess and the Frog story that's told here: http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/FrogPrin.shtml


End file.
